Page 81 of Jazz
“Are you not?” She tipped her head to the side, watching me.
“Why do you want him so badly?” I asked, wiping away the water rolling over my forehead.
“I made him, Jazz. Everything he is and has is because of me.”
“Life made him, G.” I watched the corner of her eye flicker at the pet name Chase had used for her. “You were just a part of that.”
She stepped closer, her face hardening.
“You know, anal’s always been his favourite.”
I sighed. Any other day, I would have just punched her. But I was tired. And stiff, and I didn’t need to fight her. I’d already won, and she was about to find out how.
“You know The Viking wouldn’t have found us that quickly, don’t you?” I searched her eyes, seeing the corner flicker again. “You said you knew the Grays. I don’t want to know how. But what I do know is that you called Fury that night. Told them we were here.” She pursed those red stained lips. “What was it you were trying to achieve?”
Gina said nothing, just stared.
“I can just get Chase to ask you. I’m sure when he puts two and two together…”
“Fury said he’d let him go, that they only wanted you.” She interrupted. “They weren’t supposed to come after Chase too.”
I said nothing, just looked at her, into her dark eyes, watching the defeat swirl there for me to see.
“Thank you for having us,” I said coldly after a few tense seconds, “but we really should be going.”
Chapter Forty
“Why are we leaving now?” I asked, slinging my rucksack onto my shoulders.
“There’s something I want to do before we leave the North East, Chase.”
“And it has to be done in the middle of the night?”
“It’s morning, Chase.”
“And I need wire cutters for this thing we’re doing? We’re supposed to be discreet. Escaping. Not doing shit with wire cutters.”
“Has Gina got wire cutters, or not?” Jazz pulled the helmet over her face.
“Yeah. Yeah. They’re just under the utility room sink.” I signalled in front of the bikes. “I would have liked to say a proper goodbye. Feels a bit shit just fucking off like this.”
“That girl said she was busy with someone,” she shrugged.
I nodded. “Yeah, I know. I guess she’ll not be too pissed off when she opens that rucksack.” I’d left it on her chair in the lounge. There was no note. No last words. Just a shitload of cash. I figured she would get the message.
*****
We rode through the dawn. It was dark at first, the sunrise bleeding way out in the east. Gold strands reaching out into the dark. The roads were quiet, the odd car and a few more HGVs enjoying the space ahead of them.
Jazz took us west, the dawn chasing us, catching us up quickly. The damp from the night still clung to the tarmac, slick and shining under the thin wash of light. Our tyres hissed over it, sending up fine mist trails that caught the morning air like smoke.
The cold bit through my leathers, and I watched her ahead of me, the Hayabusa slicing through the grey like a black blade. Every line of her body matched the machine. Confident. Instinctive. The kind of rider who didn’t think, justwas.
The fields on either side blurred by. Open land, flat and sparkling in dew. Then came the road signs; brown, white writing, slick with morning moisture.Croft Circuit.
She slowed just a little, enough that I could pull up beside her. She didn’t look at me, just pointed that sharp chin ofhers, the one that always came out when she was about to do something reckless, defiant. We passed the sign and rolled on for another half mile, the road narrowing until it was little more than a single track, eaten at the edges by weeds. A chain-link fence ran along the right-hand side, high and silver, the kind meant to keep out idiots like us.
Jazz pulled over, killed the engine, and the silence slammed down heavy. She pulled off her helmet, hair tumbling out in dark, damp strands. There was a mischief in her smile, something wild stirring in her eyes.